


Consumed By Ennui

by plinys



Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: Episode Tag, F/F, Femslash February, Femslash February Trope Bingo, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-10
Updated: 2015-02-10
Packaged: 2018-03-11 10:24:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3324065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plinys/pseuds/plinys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Angie is feeling under the weather, Peggy goes to check on her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Consumed By Ennui

**Author's Note:**

> For my femtrope bingo card, this fill the "sick fic" square, and is also an episode tag to last Tuesdays episode.

Three days away can really make her miss home, and Peggy has half the mind to fall into bed after everything she’s been through the past few days and never wake up. Except by the time she makes it to the Griffith it’s dinner time just about the end of dinner time, and all the girls demand that she sits down and tell about where she’d been – Peggy thanks her training as a spy for being able to come up with some response to their questioning on such quick a notice, since obviously saying _Russia_ would have raised more than a few eyebrows. Through all the conversing though she can’t help herself from noticing that one thing is wrong.

“Where’s Angie?”

For a second she fears that Angie might have been kicked out while she was away, but Angie’s smarter than that, and logically she’s probably just putting in extra hours at the diner.

Keeping that in mind her worry almost dissipates until one of the girls, Susan, says, “she’s probably upstairs, I heard she’s been feeling ill.”

It’s then that Peggy makes a silent resolve to check on Angie if nothing else, slipping a few snacks into her purse she bids the other girls farewell before heading towards the stairs.

Once she stands outside Angie’s door she stops.

A part of her feels mildly guilty that she hadn’t checked on Angie before she left.

Dottie had mentioned that Angie was feeling out of sorts, but Peggy had assumed it was some sort of dramatics not anything serious, and now to hear that she had remained up in her room for the past few days, Peggy couldn’t help but worry.

She knocks three times on the door, before hearing a tell-tale muffled, “go away,” from the other side.

“It’s me,” Peggy offers, “the girls said you were still sick and-“

The door wedges open before Peggy can say anything more to that, opening to reveal an Angie that doesn’t look sick, but more worn down. Her normally pristine curls are flat down her back and she’s already dressed in a nightgown and robe even though it’s barely past dinner time.

“You’re back,” Angie states the obvious rather than letting her in.

“Yes, I am,” Peggy agrees, after a moment’s pause, “I came in right at dinner time, I snuck some rolls out, in case you were hungry.”

“Bribing me with food, that’s low, English,” Angie teases, but finally she does open the door, and Peggy can’t help the sigh of relief that falls from her lips as she slips into the other woman’s room.

“I wasn’t certain that you would open the door otherwise.”

“Fair point,” Angie agrees, “you know, I can never say no to food.”

“Guilty as charged,” Peggy relents, offering up the food she had smuggled to a very eager Angie, “now what’s the matter with you? Cold, flu, consumed by ennui?” She says the last option with a teasing tone and gets an eye roll in return.

“I’m not sure,” Angie admits after a moment, falling down onto her bed in an overdramatic fashion, “I’ve just been feeling _off._ ”

“But you’re not actually sick?”

“Nothing contagious,” Angie assures her, “probably.”

“Well, that’s good.”

“I mean for all we know it could be Tuberculosis, but I’m sure it’s nothing.”

Angie’s tone is light hearted and teasing, there’s a smile at the corners and for all her teasing she means well, but even at that sight of all that Peggy can’t help the worry that wells up in her chest at the sound of those words. She’s heard far too similar words before from another woman that Peggy had put herself out there to be friends with and that story didn’t have anything close to a happy ending.

The thought of anything like that happening to Angie is something Peggy doesn’t even want to consider.

She lets out an uneasy huff of breath as she tries to get the tightness in her chest to go away, and simply says, “oh don’t do be dramatic.”

That earns her one of Angie’s smiles in return, “but English, I’m _supposed_ to be dramatic, I’m an actress.”

“I thought it was pronounced waitress,” Peggy teases.

“You’re the worst,” Angie tells her, “the absolute worst. I’ll never forgive you.”

“See there you go perfectly dramatic.”

“You really know how to cheer a girl up, don’t you?”

“It is one of my _many_ talents.”

“That right,” Angie arches an eyebrow, “what are your other talents then? Answering phones?”

Oh if only she knew.

“Making soothing cups of tea for my neighbor when she’s feeling down,” Peggy offers.

“That would be nice.”

“Consider it done.”

“I’ll consider it done, English, when there’s a soothing cup of tea in my hand.”

 


End file.
